


It Happened on a Stormy Night

by supreme_genius



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Brief Sexual Content, M/M, brief mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supreme_genius/pseuds/supreme_genius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because rain is romantic, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Happened on a Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Still don't own Grimm.  
> Still don't make money from this.  
> Unbeta'd and a oneshot.

                The sound of rain tapping on the window is drowned out by the sound of the shower. Nick hums a bit as he rinses the shampoo from his hair. He’s glad to finally have a day off. To celebrate their first day off in a month, he and Hank decide to hit the bar and grab a few beers.

Shutting off the water, he steps out and dries off. He takes a quick glance in the mirror and decides to forego shaving. The rain tapping against the window makes his lips bend into a frown and he wonders when it started.

                Monroe’s sitting at the table fiddling with Nick’s watch, which had gotten beat up during his last case, while keeping an eye on the lasagna in the oven.  He curses under his breath when he drops a spring. Grumbling, he sets down the watch and gets down on the floor. He crawls around on his hands and knees, muttering a variety of profane words.

                Nick chuckles as he walks into the kitchen, seeing Monroe under the table. “Dude, I could make so many dog jokes right now.” When Monroe growls, he adds, “but I won’t. I’d rather not be mauled tonight.”

                Monroe just sighs and shakes his head. “It’s your watch that put me down here, man. Stupid little spring jumped right out of my hand.”

                Nick shakes his head and gets down on the floor with Monroe. “When did it start raining?”

                “Uh, like right after you got in the shower. You take really long showers, you know that?”

                “I like to be extra clean.”

                “You don’t actually have to repeat after you lather and rinse.”

                “You do if you want hair like this.” He smiles a smug grin.

                Monroe rolls his eyes.

                “Hey, is this what you’re looking for?” Nick holds up a tiny gold spring.

                Monroe. “Yeah, thanks.”

                The two of them get up and brush off their knees. Monroe gathers up the watch and all its pieces and returns them to his workbench. When he walks back in he finds Nick munching on a pretzel.

                “So why were you working in here instead of at your bench?”

                “The light bulb in my lamp blew out and I don’t have a replacement. Besides, I wanted to keep an eye on my lasagna.”

                Nick nods and shoves another pretzel in his mouth.

                “Dude, aren’t you going out with Hank? Why are you eating?”

                “We’re only going to the bar. Besides, look out there.” His gaze moves from Monroe to the window. “I really don’t want to go out in that rain.” His phone beeps; it’s a text from Hank. “And apparently neither does Hank.”

                “Great, now I have to share my lasagna with you.” Monroe grins, letting Nick know that he’s teasing.

                Nick rolls his eyes and changes the subject. “I think Rear Window is on that movie channel tonight. We should watch it.”

                Monroe nods. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Love that movie.” He pulls two beers from the fridge and hands one to Nick. “Dinner should be done in about half an hour.”

                “Sorry I’m intruding on your night.”

                Monroe just shrugs. “You know I don’t mind. Haven’t cared for the last six months, why start now?” They both chuckle.

                “Thanks, Monroe. Seriously. I wasn’t sure you’d let me stay a week, never mind six months.”

                “Yeah, well, you’re actually good company.” He narrows his gaze. “Don’t ever tell anyone I said that because I will deny it!” He walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, plopping down on the sofa. He flips on the television and the screen is all static. “Ugh, cable’s out.”

                Thunder rumbles through the sky and it makes Nick jump. Monroe tries not to laugh; Nick glares at him. Then a bolt of lightning lights up the dark night, illuminating the room. Nick jumps again then flops down on the sofa.

                “You okay, man?” Monroe’s brows furrow and he sets his beer on the coffee table.

                “Uh, yeah. Just, uh…I don’t like storms.” A blush covers his cheeks.

                “Don’t worry, you’ve got a big, strong blutbad to protect you.” Monroe reaches across the small space between them and squeezes Nick’s shoulder.

                Nick turns towards Monroe and smiles, just a little. “Thanks.” His voice is soft.

                “I’m guessing you haven’t had a good history with storms.”

                Nick shakes his head.

                “You wanna talk about it.”

                He shrugs. “I was twelve, just moved to Portland with Marie. She was out late one night; I can’t remember what excuse she used. It was pouring down rain. Someone broke in to our apartment. I hid under my bed. She came home just in time. She seriously kicked the guy’s ass. Looking back, he was probably wesen. She made sure I was okay, physically, and that was it. Neither of us said anything about it again. I had nightmares for months.” He looks away, trying not to let any tears fall. Marie was great to take him in, but she was never meant to be a guardian-type figure. Nick does his best not to resent her for it, especially since she’s gone, but sometimes he can’t help it.

                Monroe just sits there awkwardly, not saying anything. He tries to think of something to make Nick feel better, but he has no idea what to say. Then, without thinking, he just reaches out and wraps his arms around Nick, pulling him close for a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

                Nick leans into him, accepting and returning the hug. It’s weird and Nick just wants to pull away. But he doesn’t. Right now he needs to know he’s not alone; aside from Monroe, Nick doesn’t have many people in his life. So he sits there, leaning against Monroe; he’ll let himself worry tomorrow. Monroe’s fingers graze his shoulder, sending a shiver down Nick’s spine. Before he can say anything, the kitchen timer starts going off and Monroe is jumping up and running into the kitchen.

                Nick just sits on the sofa, trying to collect his thoughts. For a split second, he though he felt something between himself and Monroe. _You’re just lonely. You’re looking for an excuse. It was nothing._ With a sigh he gets up and walks into the kitchen. Monroe’s setting the lasagna on the table. Nick grabs a beer out of the fridge and slides into his seat at the table.

                “Beer with lasagna? No way!” Monroe confiscates the bottle and puts it back in the fridge. He grabs a bottle of red wine and two glasses. “Here.” He sets it on the table. “Now what kind of dressing do you want for your salad?”

                Nick shrugs and pours himself a glass of wine.

                “I’ll just grab what’s in front, I guess.” Monroe turns and heads back to the fridge. He grabs some raspberry vinaigrette and the garlic bread, then sits down at the table.

                It’s awkward and mostly they eat in silence, save for chewing and the two times Nick asks Monroe to pass the wine. Nick rarely looks up from his plate. Monroe sighs a few times throughout the meal, not really sure what to do or say. They were fine before, on the sofa. _What could have happened? You got too handsy. You keep thinking of him as_ you’re _grimm. He’s not. He’s not yours, never will be. So stop pretending._

                Their plates are mostly empty but dinner really only seems to be over because the wine is gone. Monroe gathers the dishes and sets them in the sink. Nick lingers for a while, pretending to help out. He opens his mouth to speak several times but the words never come out. Finally he gives up and steps out of the room.

                Nick climbs the stairs up to his room and shuts the door behind him. He sheds the majority of his clothes and flops on the bed, not bothering to get under the blankets. He sighs. _You’re making a mountain out of a molehill_. He rubs his hands over his face and rolls over. A chill hits him and he gets up, digging through his drawers for some pajamas. He settles on a worn t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants then crawls back in bed, this time getting under the covers.

                Monroe finishes the dishes before he realizes Nick isn’t there. Suddenly he feels lonely. He turns off the lights and heads upstairs. Nick’s door is closed and he frowns. Stepping into his own room, he shuts the door behind himself. He lays in bed a long time before he finally falls asleep. After about an hour, he’s dreaming one of those dreams where he’s vaguely aware it’s a dream. But it’s a nice dream – well, in the way that it isn’t a _bad_ dream – so he lets himself sleep. He hears a click and it pulls him out of his dream, but doesn’t fully wake him up. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he’s aware someone else is in the room. But something inside him is telling him that it’s okay.

                There’s a hand on Monroe’s chest, shaking him awake. His eyes blink open and he squints, trying to make out the details of the figure standing in his dark room. It’s Nick – there’s that unmistakable scent filling his room; leather, gunpowder, coffee, and cinnamon.

                “Monroe, you awake?” Nick whispers, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

                Monroe grumbles something indecipherable.

                Nick gives him another shake.

                “I’m up, I’m up. What d’ya want?” He rubs his eyes and sits up.

                “I couldn’t sleep.”

                “Okay…”

                “We didn’t say goodnight to each other.”

                “Umm…goodnight?”

                “Every single night since I started staying here, we’ve said goodnight to each other. Every night for six months, Monroe.”

                “Okay…”

                Nick bites his bottom lip and looks away. His heart is pounding. With a deep breath, he closes the gap between them and kisses Monroe. Monroe is surprised; his jaw just about hits the floor. Nick’s eyes grow wide with panic. He turns to get up and leave but Monroe catches his arm, pulling him back. Their lips meet again, and this time they both kiss like their lives depend on it. The feelings that they’ve been bottling up are finally out in the open.

                As they kiss, Monroe pulls Nick closer; Nick straddles his lap. Nick pulls away to catch his breath, but immediately moves to start kissing Monroe’s neck, nipping and sucking. Monroe growls, but Nick doesn’t feel threatened; that’s a happy growl. Nick’s lips curl into a smile. Monroe’s hands slip under the hem of Nick’s shirt, sliding up his back. Nick leans back and raises his arms, letting Monroe pull off his shirt. Monroe leans forward, littering kisses over Nick’s chest.

                Nick starts to tug at Monroe’s shirt and tosses it across the room when he finally gets it off. It’s dark, but the moonlight shining through the window lets Nick see the scars over Monroe’s chest. He runs a light finger over the raised marks; his lips are bent into a frown.

                “Just a few war-wounds…had a run-in with a few reapers.”

                “Oh god…Monroe…”

                “Hey, it’s part of the job. It’s no big deal.”

                “Yeah it is, Monroe. I didn’t know…” He runs his fingers over the scars again. “I’m so sorry. That should’ve been me.”

                “Don’t you dare say that!” His voice is serious. “If I have to take a few hits to keep you safe, so be it. I don’t care. I want you safe, okay? I’d…” He pauses. “I’d do anything for you.”

                “Well don’t you _fucking dare_ die for me, you got that? Because damn it, I’d be lost without you, Monroe.” Nick’s tone comes out angrier than it’s meant to.

                Monroe is taken back, just a bit. He’s oddly calm. “Okay.”

                Nick furrows his brow.

                “But only under one condition.”

                “What’s that?”

                “You can’t die either.”

                “Monroe, I’m a Grimm and a cop, I can’t make – ”

                “Nick, you don’t understand, do you? You can live without me. As a human and a Grimm, you _can_ live without me. But as a blutbad, I _can’t_ live without you.”

                “Where are you going with this? What does being a blutbad have to do with anything?”

                “There isn’t much about wesen in your books, other than how to kill us, is there?”

                “Not really, no.”

                Monroe sighs. “When a blutbad loses their mate, they go crazy. It’s slow and painful. Death would be easier. So when I say I can’t live without you, I mean it.”

                “Monroe, I…” Nick frowns as his hands come up to cup Monroe’s jaw. His voice is soft, “I didn’t know.” He pauses, trying to hold on to some composure. “Is that why you let me stay?”

                “I just wanted you around. I kept telling myself that even if you were only my friend, at least you were here.”

                Nick leans forward and kisses Monroe. It’s soft and sweet, but the promise of more lingers between them. When Nick pulls away he smiles at Monroe. “I think you need to convince me that you’re not all talk.”

                “What do you mean?”

                Nick voice is low, “show me how much you want me.”

And show it, he does. Monroe wraps his arms around Nick’s waist, holding him close, as he kisses Nick like there’s no tomorrow. Beneath closed eyelids, Monroe’s eyes burn red. As his nails grow and sharpen, they scrape down Nick’s back, drawing a hint of blood. Nick’s fingers comb through Monroe’s hair and tug at the curls at near the nape of his neck. Monroe growls into their kiss as Nick’s hands tug his hair and pull his head back. Nick moves on to Monroe’s neck, nipping, sucking. His teeth graze the sensitive skin.

It’s hard and fast; the kind of sex Nick’s always wanted but never gotten. It’s what Monroe’s used to; at least what he _used to be_ used to. It’s the kind of sex that leaves bruises and bite marks. Nick will have to be creative to hide all the marks at work. After tonight, Nick belongs to Monroe, and vice versa. There wouldn’t be any jumping ship if things got tough – not that either one would. And both of them are more than okay with that.

When they’re lying bed, heads finally descending from up in the clouds, there might have been a mumbled _I love you_. But _I love you_ doesn’t count after sex, at least that’s what Monroe says. So Nick says it again in the morning, in the shower. Monroe doesn’t say it back because _don’t you think it’s a little soon?_ Nick just shrugs. It doesn’t keep him from saying. Every day, in fact.

Then the night comes where both of them are bruised and battered from another close-call. It’s pouring down rain and they’re soaked to the bone when they finally trudge inside their house. When they’re peeling off their clothes, Monroe sees just how badly Nick is hurt. They cuts on his shoulder were gushing, in need of stitches. Monroe would have to them himself because _I’m not going to the hospital, I’m fine._

Monroe stitches the cuts on Nick’s shoulder with shaky hands. His mind is having a hard time on focusing on anything except what he’d do if lost Nick. After the gauze is in places, Nick looks up at Monroe with those big grey eyes that could always get the blutbad to bare his belly. And that’s when Monroe finally says it.

“I love you, Nick.”

“I know.” He smiles, grabbing Monroe’s hand and squeezing tightly. “I’ve known it for a long time. And I love you too. But you know that.”

“And I’ll never forget it.”


End file.
